


Check, Please

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, and Ruby is Ruby in every possible way, billionaires and beauties, meet cute, the one where jefferson is a sassy chauffeur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From strangers passing in the night to something more, Belle and her mystery gentleman have a pleasant habit of running into each other in the most unusual of places. AU Storybrooke</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where Storybrooke is just a regular little town with regular little people- every day like the one before… I didn't realize I hadn't moved it over here from FF.net so here it is!

Belle had a rather remarkable buzz going which was only slightly dampened by the fact that she was leaning her elbow in a wet patch.

"Another glass?" suggested the bartender, his head was cocked towards her but his attention was focused on filling the tumbler in his hand with some kind of scotch.

Belle watched the brown liquid crash against the smudged lines of the glass with disinterest. "No, I'm fine," she assured him, rebelling in her own small way by omitting her token thank you.

She tacked Thank You or I'm Sorry onto every sentence she spoke- a sort of apology to the people who were in the unfortunate situation of talking with her. Waitresses, bartenders, shop girls, check out boys, her beautician, the stranger she bumped into on the street - sorry, sorry, sorry or thank you, thank you, thank you.

It was misting outside. Usually nights like these, she would be curled up on the couch- watching TV alone, curled up in a blanket and thinking forlornly of him.

Him.

Her mind shied away from it, wouldn't do to think of someone who doesn't think of you. She glanced down at her almost completed second glass of merlot and twitched her nose in boredom. Belle hated red wine.

But it was Friday night in the city- she had gotten her hair just right, her makeup looked fantastic and the new dress she had worn to work had been too perfect not to go out in- but Ruby had cancelled, Leroy had a date tonight, and she had given the Charmings some excuse as to why she couldn't come over and play Charades.

Walking into the bar had been uncomfortable, her hair was probably flat from the rain, her eyeliner had smudged somewhere after the first glass of wine, and she knew her dress was snug against her waist line from the second helping of pizza she had for lunch.

She leaned in to take a sip and her traitorous mind supplied his voice- reminding her that alcohol was very fattening and her habit of drinking her dinner lately may have helped her fill out after her spiral of depression but wasn't doing her any favors.

She took more than sip- if only drowning out the voices in her head was as easy as knocking back cheap wine. A high pitched giggle to her left caused her to shift and glance over her shoulder. It was a mistake, she knew the instant she left her own private pity party to watch the world around her.

Girls with their hair curled and falling perfectly, their outfits snug and yet loose in the current fashion were laughing at a table- a crowd of men hovering near them, obviously part of the group and yet having a moment to themselves by the pool table.

Belle watched one man, his hair dark and his frame wide bend over a smaller girl- her lips curled into a seductive smile and her eyes flashing in the dark light of the bar. She pressed against him laughing as his arm snaked around her. It was a very clear and very definite claim done by both of them.

Belle watched, her mind desperately trying to twist the jealous, lonely knot in her chest to a silver lining. If they can be so happy, surely she would have a chance one day. Even if Ashton wasn't going to come around….

She turned back to the bar, her glass somehow had emptied itself and the bartender was ignoring her now. He would wait until he was bored again before drifting down to her end of the bar- to inquire if she wanted the check or another glass- not caring either way.

Belle French was too busy feeling sorry for herself that she barely felt the pricks of tears hit the already ruined eyeliner and let out a wearied sigh of frustration and pent up emotion. Shaking her head slightly, she bent her fingers around her wine stem and swirled the red droplets in the glass, watching them swirl and bead together.

"A glass of scotch," rumbled a foreign voice to her right and Belle felt herself looking before she remembered not to.

Her eyes met the gray eyes of an older man who glanced at her sharply before returning his attention to the bartender who had trekked all the way from the other side of the bar magically and was in the process of procuring the requested scotch without a word.

Belle figured the man was probably a regular when the voice to her right interrupted the choreographed moments of the bartender, "No, the Glenfiddich."

The bartender looked confused, Belle tapped her glass, her head bent away from the stranger, watching the couple at the end of the bar quietly finish their dinner but her attention was focused on the conversation between the two men.

"Sorry, we don't carry that- I have Johnny Walker-"

"Sonny, if you would be so kind as to check the cabinet behind the register- I am aware that Madame Mayor keeps her bottle in there for her clients, she mentioned I may have to do something as…undignified as to give you some sort of code word but I am hoping," and his voice suggested he meant expected, not hoped, "that you will pour me a glass, charge it to Mayor Mills and leave me alone for the remainder of my evening."

Belle caught the bartender's eye as he looked away from the man to her right. She looked away quickly, her attention back to her once upon a time manicured nails and the still conspicuously empty wine glass in front of her.

The barkeep brushed past her and went to the cherry wood cabinet which was in line with the wall. It's paneling mixing in and almost disappearing with the rows of shelves that supported the bar's renowned liquor collection. A mixed drink at the Rabbit Hole was a pricey luxury and one that Belle had balked at- her house red wine would probably still run her over the course of twelve dollars per glass but she licked her lips, the oaky flavor lingering on her tongue and destroying her lipstick.

A clink was the only sound as the bartender placed the requested scotch in front of his high grade connoisseur and backed away back to the relative safety of Mr. and Mrs. Sprat who were finished with their meal and were glancing through a dessert catalog …well, Mrs. Sprat was.

Belle risked another look to her right in the pretense of looking out the large bay window of the bar. It was still misting outside and the lights looked eerie glowing like orbs in the haze of the rain. The stranger had long gray hair that was soft and thin, brushing the damp collar of his jacket, streaked with rain and pushing back at his temples. He had scruff on his jaw but his back was ramrod straight which belied the unusual apparatus of a walking cane that he had placed on the seat between them.

Belle flicked her gaze to the mirror that backed the bar and saw he was watching her size him up, his eyes blazing in the dim bar- narrowed like a snake's and his mouth curled in sardonic amusement.

She averted her gaze back to the bartender in embarrassment. He had his back towards their corner, obviously not wanting to return until Mr. Scotch had taken his leave.

Which meant Belle was stuck with no drink and no bill and no way of escaping with her dignity intact.

She flexed her right heel under the bar, and shifted her weight to her left so she could turn and return to watching some of the bar inhabitants. The pool group was laughing loudly and most of the girls were ignoring those around them and watching the rest of the bar, hungry eyes searching for the man who could, just might be, the one who would distract them from their loneliness.

Belle recognized it as she was doing the same thing. However, the Rabbit Hole was a nice, business bar and most of the patrons were noticeably older and dining out with their dates.

The young crowd she was watching was obviously from the local college and were probably all pre-somethings who were celebrating one of their own's victory in academia or the business world.

Belle twisted back and stared down the bartender, trying to get his attention through focusing on the back of his neck, her whole body leaning forward and her empty glass teetering drunkenly in her grip. She craned her neck and smiled at the woman who was in the process of ordering a drink but she looked away and continued to chat without alerting the bartender to her plight.

She sighed.

Grabbing her purse, Belle straightened her dress and made a move to get down from her stool when the foreign voice spoke again- the same calm, detached and low rumble from before.

"Another glass for the lady, I believe," suggested the stranger, and the bartender looked up from his current customer to look at her in momentarily interest.

"One minute," he replied, turning back to the young woman who was now leaning across the bar and showing less interest in her sweating drink and more interest in the muscles that were showing through the bartender's white collar shirt.

"I'm fine," Belle murmured, not looking at the stranger. "I've already had two glasses; I just need my card back."

"My mistake, you seemed rather interested in my drink order, I figured you were in need of another drink yourself."

She tensed, eyes plummeting to the warped wood of the old time bar counter. Her glass had left a small ring of condensation and her elbow was still damp from its earlier sojourn into the water ring. She shook her head, a tense curt move that she hoped was a clear sign that she did not want to talk.

A stranger ordering high end scotch and had powerfully dangerous waves leaking out of him like cologne wasn't someone she wanted to discuss her evening plans with.

He seemed to understand her perfectly and fell silent, other than the chinking of ice in his glass.

In a desperate attempt at distraction, she pulled out her cell phone, the small screen showed a missed text from Ruby and a few notifications on the impending weather front moving in. But the number she had most wanted to see was not there. A familiar falling in her stomach accompanied by disgust at herself distracted her enough that she didn't notice the bartender put down the glass of red wine until it was too late.

"Oh, no," she fumbled and the bartender paused and turned back to her," I wanted my bill actually."

"Oh," the bartender narrowed his brow in confused annoyance and glanced at her neighbor.

"I'm sorry," she said, the familiar words falling out despite her earlier promise to herself, "I'll pay for this but can I get my check when you get a moment?"

"Yea, sure," the white shirt grumbled, already walking away from her towards the register to get her card. "What was the last name again?" he called out over his shoulder.

"French," she supplied. "Belle French."

He nodded as he flipped through the cards at the till and started to ring hers up.

Her eyes fell back to the dying light of her phone and she slipped it back in her purse with a sigh. She picked up the unwanted glass and put it to her lips. Her buzz didn't make the taste any smoother and she bit back a shiver as the alcohol slicked its way over her taste buds.

"Belle French," said a voice suddenly by her elbow. She found herself suddenly being addressed by an older gentlemen in a wrinkled shirt collar with a shine of liquor on his cheeks. His eyes were half glazed and his voice was high, almost effeminate.

"Uh, yes," she answered, drawing her elbows in over her drink. She offered a tight lip smile and took another sip of her dark red.

"My business associates all just departed and left me to finish my drink alone, mind if I sit and finish mine with yours?" He smiled a grin which he must have assumed was charming but was instead slightly overdone. It stretched his face out and made his appearance boyish. It came across as more disconcerting than endearing.

"I was just getting my check actually." But old habits die hard and she felt in her nervous state more words slip out of her mouth. "Sorry."

The sorry seemed to encourage him and he leaned against the bar, crowding her and yet far enough away that she couldn't be affronted. "So unfortunate to see a young woman drinking by herself at the bar."

"It's not so bad," she laughed nervously, "Just had to get out for a bit."

"Yes, terrible weather, though isn't it?" He asked. His eyes never leaving her face even as she took another fortifying sip of her drink. Her buzz was beginning to solidify into something more solidly on the edges of drunken tiredness.

"MmHmm," she responded, her hand drifting back into her purse to retrieve her phone. Perhaps if she faked a call she could get rid of him without appearing rude-

"Here you go," said the bartender, sliding her check across the slick wood, never pausing for an instant and returning back to his comfort zone at the opposite end of the bar. The white paper with its black print was surprisingly bright in the contrast of the dark room and Belle stuck her hand back into her purse to fish out her credit card. The number at the bottom was a staggering amount for three glasses of wine but Belle pursed her lips and placed the rectangle of plastic neatly on the till and slide it back.

"Can I get another whiskey sour and one for her as well?" boomed the interloper. The bartender nodded without looking over at her and she felt a flash of anger.

The bartender kept allowing men to order her drinks she didn't want, and was charging them to her.

"I really can't," she gently admonished," I need to be going."

"One more drink, Belle," the man laughed, using her name as if she had given it to him.

An angry bloom of frustration crept into her chest. Belle did not mind confrontation but she always preferred to ignore, dismiss or sweet talk her way out of uncomfortable situations. It was neater than throwing wine in someone's face but far less satisfying.

"I'm fine, thank you but whiskey doesn't agree with me. "

"Here you go."

Two glasses of clear and sticky Whiskey Sours clinked down in front of her and her bill was picked up and carted away. She saw him slide her card and she rubbed her face with her hands, scrubbing away at the frustration that she felt must be blazing on it.

"I'm good, but thank you for the offer," she dismissed him with another polite tight lip smile and knocked back the last of the toxic red wine. She felt the tang of it against her lips and gave in to the involuntary shiver that always followed when she took a large drink.

"Belle, do you work around here?"

He was serious- he was going to sit here and force small talk; she felt her face grow hot and desperately tried to will the bartender back with her card so she could make a quick escape. She had parked two streets down and she already knew she was in no shape to drive but she couldn't stay here one moment longer. She had to get out-

"Belle, dearie, are you ready to go? The car is being brought around and I'm rather tired after today's meetings."

Wait- What?

Wide eyed, she turned to face Mr. Scotch whose empty glass was being carefully put down as he adjusted his cuff links. His eyes caught hers, and a mischievous spark seemed to grin at her from behind his stoic features.

For some reason the impish grin of the stranger made her feel far more comfortable than the boyish one of the other man beside her. It made him appear younger.

"Oh good, here's your card, shall we?"

The bartender gave Belle the hairy eyeball, obviously thinking he had misjudged her as just another lonely girl at the bar as opposed to a kind of…call girl. She felt her cheeks blaze up again and she looked away from him quickly- scrawling a tip on the check and sliding it back towards him.

A hot arm pressed against her side and she recoiled towards Mr. Scotch as Mr. Whiskey Sour leaned over her, "I believe Belle was going to stay and have another drink, old man. Besides," he leered down at Belle in camaraderie, "I didn't believe the lady was with you."

Silver eyes narrowed in the calm features as they stared down Mr. Whiskey Sour and then plummeted like a falcon seeing a hare below onto Belle's red face.

His eyes were no longer glinting with sardonic humor but a cold predatory expression. There was no attraction there, nothing to signify he was at any way interested in her other than offering her an escape route and one that he was already regretting her had offered. His face was clear- if she wanted out, he had provided one. If she was uncomfortable with it, it was her problem.

Belle heard her mother's warnings ringing in her ears but the wine was hitting her hard.

Mr. Whiskey Sour was beginning to frighten her more than she would like to admit. Between the ogre breathing down her neck and the cold snake of a man with his odd cane, she felt her lack of bravery strongly.

She stood, slipping her purse on her shoulder and nearly knocking over Mr. Whiskey Sour.

"Of course," she turned briefly to the red faced man she had left leaning on the bar, "Thank you for the drink but I did say I didn't want it. Enjoy your evening. "

Mr. Scotch offered her his arm and she took it, he not a very tall man, his frame was slight and she was internally grateful that he offered his arm as her knees felt a little loose, he held open the door with his cane and she breezed out into the misting air.

A silver car flashed its lights at their exit, and a valet slipped out of it and ran through the rain with an umbrella to them. He held it over her head and made a motion to the waiting car but faltered suddenly when she didn't make a move towards the passenger side.

"Thank you," Belle said, turning to Mr. Scotch who was glaring menacingly at the valet who was backing up slowly, keys still in his hand. "I appreciate your help. That was a very awkward situation."

He looked at her for a moment, "I apologize for ordering another drink for you earlier- I am not in the habit of sitting at bars by myself but I noted the server was being less than perfunctory to your needs."

He paused as if he was fumbling for the right words, "I was not attempting…"

Belle realized with an odd drunken clarity that he was embarrassed at his earlier action of ordering her a drink. She had thought it rather odd at the time but she now saw it as more chivalrous motion rather than the more obvious attempt of seduction like Mr. Whiskey.

"Oh, no, don't worry about that," she smiled but winced as the wind kicked misting rain into her face.

"And at the risk of being too familiar, can I offer you a safe and warm drive somewhere? I hope you'll excuse me for this but I don't think you are in any position to be walking or driving anywhere tonight."

Belle felt herself get warm in discomfort. He had been perfectly polite but he was a stranger, one that was still intimidating and who she knew absolutely nothing about. She glanced at the empty streets, no taxis in their small metropolis at this hour it would seem.

"Oh, no I can walk, I just parked a ways down the street," she reassured him, patting his left arm which she still held. She let it go, before taking a step away right as the rain picked up and a peal of thunder shook the sky over them.

She looked up despairingly at the night sky and let out a small whimper of defeat. She had no umbrella which was obvious to Mr. Scotch and he had already correctly surmised she was far gone in her cups.

But something felt too oddly wrong to get into a car with a stranger much less the kind of odd foreign stranger that drank high end scotch and rescued ladies in distress at four star bars.

"Valet," Mr. Scotch turned back to the young man who approached again, his umbrella shaking droplets of water. "Could you please call a taxi for Ms. French?"

Belle watched as a bill that looked clean and new pass between the two men and the boy nodded.

"That should cover the valet and this," he produced another bill and handed it over as well "should cover her ride home. Let the driver know that he can keep the change."

The boy's eyes widened as he looked down to the bills in his hand and then back to Mr. Scotch and Belle. Her rescuer ignored him.

"Dearie, you do live within city limits I presume?"

She found her voice somewhere in her stomach and eked out a response. "Yes, there's really no need, I can just-"

"That'll be all," he dismissed the valet who handed him his keys and retreated to the valet booth to call a taxi presumably. "Ms. French, as a father to a young man roughly your own age, I can tell you I raised him to understand when a lady can take care of herself and when one could use a helping hand of a gentleman. I assure you, I will forget your name the instant I see you safely tucked away into a taxi and I have no designs on you other than seeing you safely home."

"Besides," he said with that glint returning to his eyes and a sardonic grin cocking itself across his face, " It is rather nice to see men like the idiot in there left reeling when a young woman practically flee from them with an old dragon like me."

"Thank you," she found herself saying. And she meant it.

She stared at him for a moment, thinking he didn't seem old enough to have a son her age and thinking his teeth were crooked and not really caring.

"Always happy to help," he answered, his stoic features relaxing. Belle felt herself leaning towards him, his forehead just over her own in her heels, she was right at the level to put her head on his shoulder comfortably.

How odd, she mused, that once he told her he wasn't interested in her, that she suddenly felt comfortable enough to consider touching him?

His eyes were watching a yellow taxi approach and when he turned around with a flippant response, he found her watching him with what she could only assume must look exactly like drunken interest.

And she found herself giggling at his affronted expression. He looked almost—taken aback and he hustled her forward, the valet with the umbrella materializing next to them as he took her arm from Mr. Scotch and walked her towards the waiting cab.

"Address?" the valet asked her.

"5654 Rue Street," she answered automatically, ducking her head and sliding into the warmth of the cab as the valet and the driver exchanged money and directions.

She looked back out to see her dragon watching safely from the awning of the Rabbit Hole. His hands crossed over his cane as he watched her intently from his dry spot. The steam from the dry cleaner next to the bar was curling around him and the mist made it more Casablanca than Friday night in Storybrooke.

She blinked, door still open and as the valet came to close it, she leaned out.

"Thank you again! It's very much appreciated!"

He nodded and the valet shut the door and hustled back to the waiting man. The driver pulled away from the curb and Belle watched the street disappear behind her.

She curled down, watching the street lights wink as they drove by. The driver was taking the short way home, obviously having been paid well enough to not bother taking a scenic route and Belle contemplated her evening as they pulled up to her building.

As she stepped out, she felt her phone buzz once and as she trudged up to the apartment door, she glanced down to see it was a text from Ashton.

Him.

She turned her key in the door to the lobby and slid inside, rain beading on her skin as she stared down at the text.

And then plopping it back in her purse, she turned and pressed the elevator for up. Her wine soaked and exhausted brain only seemed to register bed, water, and silver eyes.

And with that, Belle's night ended.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no real plans to come back and visit this as I thought it rather perfect as was. 
> 
> But PrissyGirl had a birthday and she wanted sequels.
> 
> So, here's a second meeting!

Sipping her coffee, Belle surveyed the other coffee shop patrons with interest. Early afternoon on a Sunday had brought most of students out of their hangovers into the promised land of caffeine and sugar. A few young professionals also gathered in the bright light of the Chipped Cup Coffee Shop but they all had earphones in and were working away on their latest novel that no one would ever read. 

After her late brunch with Ruby, Belle had simply meant to stop in for a quick vanilla flavored foam concoction that they passed off as coffee, only to find herself still sitting here thirty minutes later, people watching. 

It was a guilty pleasure. Belle’s love of stories had translated to a love of movies and theater that had somehow leaked into a college class or two of introduction to theater- where people watching had been encouraged. 

So, here she was. Alone on a overcast Sunday afternoon, watching strangers live their lives instead of out living her own. 

Belle smiled graciously as one of the young baristas caught her eye. He looked quickly away, already being approached by a new customer who was half talking on her cell phone, half barking out her order. It was jumble of information all crammed together in a seamless stream of consciousness. 

“And then, I told him- medium tall vanilla banana latte- You can’t talk to me like that in front of my sister- soy, no foam, and half the vanilla- because I won’t be in this position past August or I’ll go postal- extra shot of banana- and you know he was such an ass about it-“

The woman caught Belle staring. Quickly looking back down at her own table, Belle sighed as she took another drink of her own rapidly cooling drink. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t have any friends of her own. It was just everyone was in the various stages of dating and well, if Belle had learned anything in college beside the art of people watching, it had been how to cope with friend’s romantic lives. 

Ruby was seeing some guy she met online- CricketNoises- who had turned out to be a highly respected psychiatrist with his own practice. Surprising to everyone, he managed to keep Ruby’s interest due to his paralyzing shyness coming off as being hard to get. By the time Ruby had realized he was crazy about her, she had already fallen for him despite herself. 

Even Leroy had managed to snag the attention of his long time crush. As a deliveryman, he had befriended Belle at her usually lonesome job at the local college library. He had shared his increasingly interest in the young woman who worked in the religion department- a pixie faced clumsy teacher’s aide who turned out to be getting her doctorate in religion studies. Belle hadn’t met Nora officially yet but she had seen her on campus enough to know she seemed the perfect sweet contrast to Leroy’s usually grumpy exterior.

And with her college roommates all happily married, she only saw them on special occasions or impromptu dinner parties. Mary Margaret and David were expecting their second child, their first-born Emma barely speaking yet. Ella and Sean had their hands full with their newborn son and ever since Ariel and Eric had announced their engagement, she now only saw Ariel during wedding planning meetings. 

Leaving her with plenty of down time to “do you” as all her now happily paired off friends were so fond of reminding her. 

The announcement of the next drink at the bar- “Extra Large Coffee- black” – made her lift her eyes back up. It was an unusual order at a coffee shop known for it’s ridiculous mixology of coffee flavors and styles.

For a moment, she amused herself with guessing which of the few patrons standing idly around the bar waiting for their order would claim the plain drink. The cell phone orderer was still chatting restlessly but had been joined by a few young girls who looked as if their mother had dropped them off for an hour of much needed “alone time” and a young man who had oversized earphones drowning out the humdrum of the coffee shop.

For a moment, no one moved before Belle’s eye caught a man standing up from the booth closest to the front door and make his way towards the steaming drink.

For a moment, Belle stared in interest at the slightly limping man, his cane elegant and out of place in the hip coffee shop and his suit pressed and immaculate despite the warm early spring afternoon. 

And then, he turned slightly to grasp his drink in his free hand and Belle stood before she realized it. 

Silver eyes flickered over to the sudden movement as his hand grasped the hot beverage and Belle felt a smile bloom across her face even as her hand popped up to wave in an awkward greeting. 

He looked at her for a moment, eyes lingering on her still raised hand. She quickly dropped it, feeling embarrassment start to warm her cheeks. He nodded curtly at her, but she was unsure if it was from recognition or politeness. 

He turned towards the front door, carefully balancing the over brimming coffee as he made his way through the crowd of others waiting for their beverages. None moved to accommodate him and Belle felt herself frown.

Grabbing her purse, she made her way through the maze of tables, beating the familiar stranger to the front door. 

As he finally cleared the throng, he glanced up to find her standing, holding open the door for him. A frown flashed over his features as he approached. 

“Hi,” Belle enthused, trying to catch his eye again. “I’m not sure if you remember me but-“

“Ms. French,” he surprised her, catching her eye before he brushed past her and out the door. “Pleasure to see you again. If you’ll excuse me-“

Belle’s brain seemed to be lagging behind her usual social cues. She was following him out the door, shrugging into her jacket as she fell in step beside him. “I wanted to thank you,” she began, trying not to trip in her brand new high-heeled boots. “For the other night-“

“Think nothing of it, Ms. French,” he murmured. He moved rather quickly for a man with a limp, Belle marveled as she struggled to keep up with him while trying to put on her jacket one handedly. “I trust you arrived home safely.”

“You were very kind,” Belle acknowledged. “The bar even called the next afternoon to tell me the valet would return my car to my home address as soon as the roads cleared. You didn’t have to do that-“

Belle’s momentum came to a sudden stop when she realized her companion had stopped short a few feet back and was standing beside an idling town car. She glanced back blankly for a moment before she realized this was his ride.

“Oh, of course,” Belle shook her head, raising her hand to the back of her neck. “Sorry, I just never thought I’d see you again- and I really wanted to thank you.”

“Again,” the man she had taken to calling Mr. Scotch in her recounting of that night nodded his head grandly. “It was a simple matter of helping a damsel in distress.”

His face changed slightly at this, the famed smirk she had so vividly recalled from their encounter in the street gracing his face once more. It was almost cruel in it’s humor but at the same time, mischief sparkled in his eyes, warming his face from its usual stoic demeanor. 

Belle glanced a the idling car, blackened windows not giving away if anyone was waiting for him inside. She gestured towards it with her coffee, “I’m sorry to keep you, I just wanted was pleased to see you.”

At her words, Mr. Scotch looked, for a moment, rather taken aback. He cocked his head to the side slightly as he blinked, eyes looking down and away from her as if he was hoping to escape her attention altogether. 

“I didn’t even get your name,” Belle continued nervously, smiling tightly. “So, I couldn’t send you a thank you card or a retribution-“

“That’s not necessary, Ms. French,” Mr. Scotch said, his brogue cracking slightly as he almost stuttered her name. “As I said, I have a son your age and I know the follies of youth-“

“Follies of youth?” Belle interrupted with a teasing smile of her own. “You can’t be older than forty if a day-“

He shook his head as a chuckle escaped him and Belle smiled wider at her small victory. “I assure you, my dear,” he murmured in a rather throaty tone. “I am much, much older.”

Belle had no response to this, nodding slightly as she glanced behind her in the following silence. The sun was setting and the balmy afternoon temperature was already beginning to drop. 

“Anyways, thank you,” Belle raised a hand out to shake his own, only to find his hands were indeed full with his coffee and cane. She quickly lowered it, clenching it in her jacket pocket as to hide the offending appendage. “Sorry! I-“

“Think nothing of it, Ms. French,” Mr. Scotch said with a sigh.

“You say that a lot,” Belle noticed. “As if you don’t like to be thought of.”

“Many don’t think highly of me,” he shared, a wicked smirk lingering on the left side of his mouth. 

“Many people are idiots,” Belle shot back. His eyes lit up at her easy barb and Belle felt an inner thrill of at her own boldness. 

“Indeed,” he agreed, eyes lingering on her face before he turned to his vehicle. Before he had even bent down to reach for the door, a young man opened the driver door, stepping out and quickly heading around the rear of the car. 

“Allow me, Mr. Gold,” the driver offered. But his voice, light and easy, made it sound more of a command than the polite offer it was worded as. 

“It’s not necessary, Jefferson,” the now named Mr. Gold growled, placing his coffee on the roof of the car as he wrestled with the door handle. 

“Mr. Gold,” Belle murmured softly, memorizing it so she could try and search for the mysterious man’s address later that evening. He may not find it necessary but she knew a thank you of some sort was in order. 

The chauffeur was already at his side, taking the coffee from the roof of the car as Mr. Gold turned to Belle who was still standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. 

“Pleasure to see you again, Ms. French,” Mr. Gold said with sincerity. 

Belle nodded. “Same!” She chirped before she closed her eyes at her awkward shortness. She smiled a closed lip grin at the driver who was studying her closely before she turned to leave.

“Will we be giving Ms. French a ride to her car, sir?” Jefferson suddenly asked, surprising Gold into stopping his entering the car and Belle from heading down the street.

“Oh, no- that’s not necessary,” Belle said hurriedly. As a wind swept down the quickly emptying street, her body betrayed her and a violent shiver ripped through her .

Mr. Gold was staring at the street as if he had failed to see it before. “You’re right, Jefferson,” he replied as he looked back towards Belle. “Ms. French, please allow us to take you to your car. It’s getting dark and it looks as if rain could hit any moment.”

“Oh, I was going to catch the bus-“ Belle started before she realized that was exactly the wrong thing to say. 

“Nonsense,” Mr. Gold huffed, bending down into the car. “We’ll give you a ride to wherever you’re headed.”

As he disappeared into the interior of the large sedan, Belle caught Jefferson grinning at her, his chauffeur cap tipped at a jaunty angle. 

“It’s really not necessary,” she started again but Jefferson shut the door behind his employer before she could finish. 

“Boss’s orders,” the young man said in a somber tone, completely at odds with his teasing grin. “Let me get the door for you, Ms. French.”

And Belle found herself slowly lowering herself into the driver side back seat, tucking her stocking legs to her chest as she seated herself. 

Mr. Gold was sitting tensely on the other side, his coffee clutched in his hand and his cane lying on the floor of the car, forgotten. 

“You’re quite a knight in shining armor,” Belle laughed breathlessly as Jefferson shut the door firmly behind her. 

“An old dragon like me?” Gold shrugged, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. “We are anything but opportunistic.”

“Refusing retribution or thanks is not opportunistic,” Belle argued, watching as Jefferson settled into the driver’s seat and move the car into drive. 

“Where to?” Jefferson asked, interrupting the conversation. 

“I’m sure Ms. French has evening plans,” Gold began and Belle shook her head and cut him off.

“No, no place to be, my apartment would be great.”

“5654 Rue Street,” Gold answered automatically before he realized what he had just done. 

Belle turned a quizzical eye at him, catching Jefferson do the same in the driver mirror.

“I have an excellent memory,” he quickly covered, hiding behind his coffee as he took a drink. Belle continued to stare at him for a moment before she nodded, turning to gaze out her own window. After a moment, she heard her fellow passenger say, “I didn’t memorize it-“

“It’s fine,” Belle turned back to him. “I just didn’t know anything at all about you other than you know the Mayor and like Glenfidditch.”

“And now?” He said, a teasing tone back in his voice that made him sound younger.

“That you like boring coffee and have your own driver. Oh, and your name of course.”

“Is that so important?” He asked, eyebrow rising slightly in the darkness of the car. Jefferson made a left at the intersection of Main Street and Belle glanced out the window in confusion. They were heading the opposite way of her apartment complex. 

“Not really,” she said distractedly just as a large platter of rain started to hit the roof of the car. Jefferson silently slid the windshield wipers on, making another left at the next street. 

“I didn’t recall rain on the weather report,” Gold said, frowning out the window. “You would have been soaked to the skin if Jefferson hadn’t been earning his pay-“

Belle turned back from watching Jefferson take the oddest known route possible to her home, wondering if she should say anything or if she would embarrass the young man by calling attention to the fact he had no idea where he was going. 

She caught Gold staring fixedly at a spot on her lap, glancing down she realized her skirt had ridden up in the car and her garter belt was flashing white in the now gloom of the backseat. Flipping it down hurriedly, she turned to Gold, blurting out “I’m so sorry!” just as he exclaimed, “I didn’t mean-!”

For a moment, both stared into each other’s eyes with dawning horror before they suddenly found themselves both turning away, burning faces reflected back in the dark windows of the stormy evening. 

For a few seconds, Belle felt her chest heave as her heart raced in utter and complete humiliation. Here she was, taking another favor from this strange and powerful man, and she was flashing her legs at him like a common jezebel…

Gold cleared his throat but Belle didn’t turn back to look at him, trying to figure out a way to quickly escape the car without killing herself. 

“Jefferson,” Gold drawled. “I’m no expert on the routes of Storybrooke, but I believe Rue Street is on the east side of town. We are heading north west…”

“Oh,” the driver said, as if this was brand new information to him. “So, we are.”

“While Ms. French may not have pressing plans, I’m sure she would prefer the warmth of her own home to the company of odd strangers driving her in circles.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Jefferson responded jauntily, catching her eye in the rearview mirror with a wink. “My apologies, Miss!”

“It’s fine,” Belle mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Not like I have any plans beyond left overs and Netflix.”

“Oh, have you seen the newest season of-“

“Jefferson,” Gold growled beside her. “You are paid to drive and park. Conversation is not included in that addendum.”

Belle turned to him, a small intake of breath at the sudden rudeness. Gold ignored her glance, taking another sip of coffee as he fished his cell phone out of his pocket. 

“Did you mean Orange is the New Black?” Belle questioned, crossing her legs as she settled back into her seat. “Or House of Cards?”

“The Boss loves House of Cards,” Jefferson responded smoothly, eyes fixed on the road. “But I can’t get enough of OtB.”

“Me too,” Belle shared. She was more than aware that her skirt had hiked up slightly on her right side, knowing if Gold glanced back over he would see more than just her garter belt or the top of her stockings. But she felt an odd rush of adrenaline in the darkness of the car, seeing if the opportunistic dragon or the knight in shining armor would surface next. 

Something about the mercurial moods both infuriated her and intrigued her and for the first time, Belle understood why Ruby was always complaining about men not being interesting enough for her. 

After all, Belle’s whole dating sphere was limited to her on and off again relationship with Ashton. As he was currently back to dating his office secretary, she was feeling more than eager to forget the constant reminder of being inferior and undesirable. 

As she and Jefferson continued to trade thoughts on the latest season of the addictive series, she felt Gold withdraw more and more into his own world. Jefferson was surprisingly witty, an almost ridiculous dry sense of humor, which left her guessing if he was having her on or if he was serious in his crazy thoughts on the prison system. 

Soon, they were pulling onto her street and Jefferson fell silent as he pulled up to her apartment complex. 

“Here’s fine,” Belle said, glancing at the pouring rain. “I can go in the front door.”

“Jefferson, since you are so enjoying your time with Ms. French, you can escort her to the door.”

Without a word, the driver slipped the car into park and slid silently out the door. He went to the back, popping the trunk and she heard him rummage around, probably for an umbrella. She sat silently in the soft overhead lights of the recently opened door and watched Gold, his screen lighting up his thing face in blues and whites. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I really do appreciate you being so kind-“

As he opened his mouth, not bothering to look up, Belle reached out and placed her hand over his, causing him to look sharply up at her as he jerked his hand out from underneath hers. 

“Don’t say it was nothing,” Belle withdrew her hand, placing it her lap as she waited for Jefferson to hurry up and open the door. But he seemed to be having an issue finding an umbrella as she could still hear him rummaging around, a jaunty tune he was humming drifting through the thin partition as well. 

Gold gave a wave of his free hand, putting down the cell phone as he glanced out into the night. “Then, I’ll say you are welcome.”

With that, Jefferson opened her door, a large black umbrella overhead, rain bouncing it off it and sleeting down behind him. 

“My lady,” Jefferson quipped, offering his gloved hand. Belle took it, letting him pull her up and out of the car, her empty coffee cup still clutched in her hand.

“Night,” she said morosely to the still sullen Mr. Gold who nodded as Jefferson shut the door firmly behind her.

Belle felt the dampness of the rushing water hit her boots and she hurried to get out of the road to the safety of the sidewalk. Jefferson escorted her carefully, keeping the umbrella perfectly over her without a stumble.

As they neared the door, Belle turned to thank him only to find Jefferson looking oddly serious. 

“Ms. French,” he started but Belle shook her head.

“Friends call me Belle,” she corrected.

“Belle,” Jefferson nodded with a small grin before his serious gaze dropped back in place. “This might not be my place but –“

“Oh,” Belle said hurriedly, ducking her head as she realized what was happening. “I’m sorry, I’m not- I wasn’t flirting with you, I just-“

Jefferson actually laughed, a dark and wild laugh that cut abruptly short, disconcerting her slight. “Ah, no, sorry pet but your not quite my type.” Belle colored at this, raising a hand to her eyes as she realized she was batting zero for hundred today. 

“But I think you might be his,” Jefferson continued. Belle glanced back up in utter shock, eyes darting to the car behind him as she realized what he was implying. 

“No, he-“ Belle started but Jefferson continued to hustle her towards the door. 

“Look, I know the Boss,” the young man said seriously. “And he doesn’t go about helping just anyone. Much less strangers.”

“He barely spoke to me,” Belle reminded him. The awkwardness of their drive still fresh in her mind.

“Yea, but he didn’t yell, insult or throw something at you either,” Jefferson shared, stepping up to her front porch. 

“Well,” Belle wavered, raising her key to the apartment’s privacy door. “I don’t know the first thing about him-“

“Ever heard of Golden Rum?” Jefferson said conspiringly, and Belle almost dropped her key as she turned to fully face him.

“Storybrooke’s biggest business? North America’s largest rum supplier?” Belle stammered.

“That’s it,” Jefferson answered gleefully. “Well, being CEO of a company like that doesn’t allow a lot of free time for a man of his age.”

Belle just stared blankly at the young man, trying to grasp the concept she had been in the same car as the richest man in the state according to Forbes.

“Shut up,” she finally managed which caused Jefferson to grin. 

“No fooling,” he answered back before he nodded towards the door. “Hurry up and get inside before he gets antsy. But if you ever find yourself over on Oak Street, he has his private office over there.”

“I thought the headquarters were in Boston,” Belle started but Jefferson was already backing away form her.

“He usually takes lunch around noon on Fridays,” Jefferson shared as he started to turn away from her. “Likes that Italian place.”

“Gepetto’s?” Belle managed but Jefferson was already walking back towards the car. Realizing Gold was probably watching, Belle turned and hurriedly let herself into the apartment, slamming it shut against the rising wind and leaning against the closed door as soon it shut.

 

Back in the car, Jefferson quickly popped the trunk, slid the soaking wet umbrella back inside before making his way quickly back to the driver’s side and gratefully sliding back into the dry warm of the sedan.

He didn’t have to turn around to know his boss was glaring daggers at him, probably trying to find a way to fire him without losing him as his personal driver. Mr. Gold had gone though about fifty drivers before Jefferson had come along and he had been here a record two years without incident. 

“Back to the house,” Gold grumbled, the sound of clicking keys indicating he was back on his email. “Try not to take the scenic route- you’re not paid by mileage, Jefferson.”

“Sure thing Boss,” Jefferson replied smoothly, sliding the car into drive and heading towards the outskirts of town where the manor resided. As he pulled away from the curb, he caught Gold staring out the window, twisting his neck to get a better look at the old worn down apartment building through the rain. “Nice part of town,” Jefferson noted. “Bit run down place though, probably doesn’t make much as- what did she say she did again?”

“College librarian,” Gold answered gruffly and Jefferson had to mask the smirk on his face. 

He knew full well the young woman hadn’t said a word about her job either today or their first late night encounter at the bar. 

“Interesting girl,” Jefferson said warmly, testing Gold’s response.

“Glad to assist you in your depravity,” Gold growled. “I will ask in the future for you not to be so forward as to come on to the people I associate with-“

“Oh, I didn’t ask her out,” Jefferson said smoothly, not risking looking back. “She was too busy asking about you.”

Gold didn’t say a further word the long drive to the manor on the outskirts of town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no beta and I typed this one out in a particular inspiring coffee shop writing session.
> 
> Tell me what you think and you may all get a third chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Belle, what’s the male equivalent of lady? “

Blue eyes narrowed in confusion as her companion looked up at her from the book she had been thumbing through. “What was that, Ruby?” Belle asked, glancing around the bookstore as if she had forgotten where she was. 

“I’m trying to put together an analogy in my head but I can’t think of the male version of lady. Is it like gentleman or something?” 

A warm albeit distracted small smile lifted the corners of Belle’s lips. Shelving the book she had been devouring, the smaller brunette shrugged her shoulders in amusement. “I’d say it depended on what kind of lady you were referring to. Is it a titled woman or a well-mannered one? Maybe a dog known for her taste for meatballs?”

Before the last syllable had died away, Ruby was grinning for England. With a bark of laughter that startled the little old woman who had turned the corner into their row, Ruby slapped her hands together gleefully. “Well, no but if you have tramps on the brain, we should really talk about some things!” Ruby crowed as Belle blushed scarlet. 

“I was just- Ruby stop, you know what I meant!” 

“Still doesn’t make it any less funny,” she replied, already tipping a nearby book of the shelf. “You about finished here? I don’t want to be late.”

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Belle murmured, tracing her fingers longingly over the spines as they headed towards the exit. “I should have known you asking me to go to the book store was too good to be true.”

Ruby ignored her, offering a roguish smile to the young cashier as she pushed the door open and stepped out into the sunlight of the early summer day. Belle was right behind her, face tilted backwards to take one last look at the stack of new arrivals by the front door. 

As they tripped down the street, both striding expertly in heels that defied both the laws of physics and the cracks in the sidewalk, Ruby distracted her friend with various comments on the locals even as Belle hushed her with well meaning platitudes. 

That is, until Ruby stopped abruptly in front of a café. Belle nearly ran into the back of her, catching her arm to steady herself. “Ruby, what on Earth-“ Belle admonished right as her eyes widened when she saw the café sign blowing gently in the breeze. “Gepetto’s?” Belle hissed, clutching Ruby’s arm tighter as she tried to hide behind the leggy brunette. “Ruby, are you crazy, it’s lunch time on Friday and that means-“

“Belle!”

Belle’s eyes squeezed shut in mortification, even as Ruby turned towards the voice. The speaker turned out to be a rather handsome man leaned against a nearby parked town car. He ignored the stares of the pedestrians as he waved furiously towards them, grin growing broader as he caught Ruby’s eye.

“Hey, Belle, over here!” He called out again, obviously enjoying watching as Belle tried to rally herself to turn to him. 

“Hey,” Ruby asked, trying to keep the grin off her face. “Is that the chauffeur guy you were telling me about? Jefferson, wasn’t it?”

If looks could kill, Ruby would have been deader than a doornail as her friend glared up at her. “You know perfectly well who that is,” Belle growled even as Jefferson leaned into the open window and honked the horn at them in effusion. 

Belle gave her one final glare before she spun around to face him, smile perfectly in place. “Jefferson!” Belle greeted, walking slowly towards him. Ruby saw the side-glances her friend threw towards the café but no one emerged from the dark depths. This small mercy seemed to give Belle some strength. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you,” he answered. “Mr. Gold takes his lunch every Friday at Gepetto’s.”

Belle shrugged her shoulders, cocking her head to the side as she shook it slightly. “Hmm, you may have. I don’t really remember…”

“Sure you do,” Ruby jumped in, popping up behind her. “You told me all about it. Fridays, Gepetto, lunch time, gold town car with chauffeur-“

“Ruby!” Belle squeaked in horror even as Jefferson folded his arms in disapproval.

“Just chauffeur?” 

“She did mention you were attractive,” Ruby replied even as Belle looked on in mute horror. “She failed to mention you look like sin itself.”

Jefferson cocked his eyebrow at her, glancing down at his finely pressed black pants and white button up shirt. Ruby followed suit until Belle rudely elbowed her. 

“What?” Ruby whispered in annoyance. “If Archie wasn’t in the picture, I’d already have my tongue in his ear.”

“Shame,” Jefferson shot back with a crooked grin. “I could have shown you a few tricks.”

Not risking glancing back at Belle, Ruby shot him back a filthy grin. She knew a fellow player when she saw one and she knew he was enjoying getting a rise out of Belle more than he was enjoying their banter. Still.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” Belle was saying nervously. “Ruby and I were just going to get lunch-“

“That’s right,” Ruby confirmed. “We have a table here. What’s the spaghetti like?”

“Ruby,” Belle groaned, hugging herself despite the warm summer day. “Come on, this isn’t funny…”

“I should say not,” Jefferson replied, eyes cutting to Ruby before focusing on Belle. “Told you about Gepetto’s months ago. Took your friend this long to trick you into coming here?”

“I-“ Belle started but Jefferson cut her off.

“Doubt he even remembers you,” he said with a shrug of his perfectly sculpted shoulders. “After all, man like Mr. Gold has plenty of distractions.”

Belle’s shoulders slumped even further, cheek twitching as she bit the inside of it. With a resigned nod, Belle turned towards Ruby with a forced smile on it. “Well, then, guess it can’t hurt to just go in and eat.”

“Join us?” Ruby asked. “I’ve never met a host that won’t add a chair to my table.”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” the darling man answered with a wink. “But Gepetto usually sends something out when boss gets his. Besides,” Jefferson gestured at the building across the street. “The Deputy Sheriff usually goes on a walk around this time, hate to miss it.”

Belle said a polite goodbye as Ruby tugged her along towards the darkened windows of the authentic café. Pushing the door open, Ruby had to blink rapidly to accustom her eyes to the shadowiness. 

As the host materialized, he glanced disapprovingly at his watch before back at Ruby with a sniff. “You are over thirty minutes late,” he accused. “We had to give your table away.”

Smothering her gut reaction to verbally disembowel him, Ruby felt her smile tighten even as Belle’s hand rested on her forearm. “It’s okay, Ruby,” Belle whispered. “We can just go somewhere else-“

“There’s no one here,” Ruby pointed out, raising her voice slightly. She could see a few people enjoying their lunch in the side room but she was watching the main room closely, noticing a solo diner facing away from them towards the back. “Look at all these empty tables!”

“Ma’am,” the host replied in distress. “We have a rather strict dress code and I’m afraid-“

Forgetting for a moment that this was the plan, Ruby felt herself snap, “Hey, just wait a minute-“

“It’s fine!” Belle raised her own voice to try and speak over Ruby, cutting between her and the host before it could escalate further. “We’ll leave-“

“Ms. French?”

As the din abruptly died down, Ruby found a petite man standing to the side of the host table, a cane in one hand and a cell phone in the other. He looked quizzically at Belle to the host. His eyes briefly landed on Ruby but she felt herself dismissed as easily as if she had been just a piece of artwork.

“Mr. Gold,” Belle replied breathlessly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “ Sorry to interrupt your lunch, we were just leaving-“

“Figaro,” the infamous Mr. Gold said softly but commandingly to the smirking host. “Please add two settings to my table. These ladies will be joining me.”

“Sir!” Figaro squeaked in indignation even as Belle assured him it that was not necessary. The man simply raised his hand to the host and said something quietly between them in Italian. Figaro nodded glumly, shooting a nasty look over his shoulder at Ruby before disappearing towards the table in question.

“I was just stepping outside to take a call,” Gold was telling Belle. “If you’ll excuse me,” and with that, he brushed past Belle. He nodded at Ruby, glancing over her ensemble with a more critical than judgmental eye. When the door swung close behind him, once more ensconcing the romantic restraint in it’s natural darkness, Belle had her head in her hands as moaned in distress.

“Oh, come on,” Ruby sighed, nudging her. “You always tell me do the brave thing and bravery will follow. Time to take your own advice, babe.”

“You don’t understand!” Belle whined, keeping a close eye on the door. “I told you he’s the CEO of Golden Rum! He runs a multi billion dollar corporation, what the hell does a man like that want with some librarian-“

“I can think of a few things,” Ruby murmured but stopped when she caught Belle’s furious look. “Oh, come on. He’s obviously pleased to see you!”

Belle lifted an eyebrow at her in disbelief, before shaking her head in resignation. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this-“

“How bad can it be?” Ruby asked, craning her neck to see if Figaro was on his way back. “Its just lunch.”

A charming chiming noise alerted them to the return of Gold. He slipped a pair of shades off his narrow features, blinking as his eyes accustomed to the gloom. As he approached them, Figaro returned to the party to inform them their table was ready.

As the surly Italian pulled her chair back from the table, Ruby enjoyed flashing him a little thigh as her skirt rode up. She heard the disgruntled cough even as she caught the color rising in his face. Her glee was short-lived though. Belle was staring at her in obvious displeasure, shaking her head slightly. Gold had his eyebrow cocked at her in obvious dry amusement. 

“What?” She said with a roll of her shoulders. “If you got it, flaunt it.”

“Your motto?” Gold asked her, nodding in approval as Figaro reappeared with a carafe of wine. 

“One of many,” Ruby replied archly. “A girl has got to have some rules to live by.” Belle was already raising her glass, tossing back a large gulp before Gold turned his attention to his own. 

“And you, Ms. French?” 

“You can call me Belle,” she replied quietly, not looking up from her menu. “All my friends do.”

Ruby sat back to watch the exchange, raising her glass high for Figgy to pour some red into. 

“Indeed?” Gold murmured lowly. Belle’s lip disappeared between her teeth-leaving Ruby to wonder if the other woman realized how alluringly that innocent gesture appeared. Gold certainty did, his eyes dipped to the swelling as it slipped free of Belle’s mouth. “I didn’t realize we were friends.”

“Of course we are,” Belle replied quickly, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. Ruby’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised at her friend’s daring. Belle didn’t seem to realize her forwardness, smiling warmly at Gold. “You’ve been wonderful to me every time we meet.”

“Purely selfish reasons,” Gold answered smoothly but Ruby noticed he did not remove his hand. “Beside, three times in a year’s time is hardly friendly.”

“No,” Belle agreed. “Perhaps we should do something about that.”

Ruby coughed slightly, alerting them both to her continued presence. Gold removed his hand from the table, causing Belle to frown at him in confusion. Figgy took the opportunity to materialize back at the table, preparing to take their orders.

Belle ordered spaghetti, coloring only a little when she requested traditional meatballs. Gold ordered the Chicken Parmesan, asking for the daily special to be delivered to his driver outside. When it came to Ruby, she pursed her lips as she looked down at the menu. 

“Hmm,” she said, dragging her finger along the sky-high lunch prices. Finally, she snapped the menu shut and got to her feet. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Ruby!” Belle cried, glancing at Gold in horror. “You’re being rude!”

“Belle,” Ruby chided back. “I can tell when I’m a third wheel.” She turned to Gold who was watching her in some interest. “I’ll let Jefferson know you might be a while,” she told him with a wink. He nodded gravely even as Belle tried to get her to sit back down.

“He’ll be happy for the extra time to chat up the Deputy,” he replied drolly, effectively ending Belle’s protests. “Pleasure meeting you, Ms. Hood.”

“And you,” Ruby saluted him. She turned smartly on her heel and brushed past a frowning Figgy to trip back out towards the sunshine. 

“Mission accomplished,” she called out as she passed Jefferson talking happily to the Deputy in question. A sharp short honk was her only answer as she turned the corner back towards her Granny’s house. 

Belle could thank her later.

 

At the moment, Belle was not feeling very charitable. 

“More wine?” Figaro asked nasally, dipping awfully close to her cheek with his smug grin. 

“Please,’ Belle murmured, pushing the glass towards him. Handing over her menu to the waiter, Belle waited until they were both gone before she took a deep breath and turned to the man beside her. “I’m sorry about Ruby,” she started, licking her lips as the moisture drained from her mouth. “She’s a bit impetuous.”

“I can see why you are friends then,” he answered, fingers splayed around his glass. Belle looked at him curiously at this comment, eyes searching his for an explanation. He raised his brow at her, “Surely you see it?” 

“Ruby and I aren’t very alike at all,” Belle shared. “She’s got a bit of a wild streak, quick temper and couldn’t care less what others think of her.”

“And you do?” 

“Very much so,” Belle answered truthfully, pushing her hair behind her ear. 

“Ah,” he replied mysteriously. Belle found herself smiling at him in exasperation. 

“What?” She demanded playfully. “Third time meeting and you know so much about me?”

“I know you are impulsive,” he shared. “Not many women follow a man you barely know out of a coffee shop. Polite enough to withstand a stranger’s fumbling come ones instead of hurting his feelings by being honest about your repulsion. Beautiful enough to turn heads in even the darkest of times and humble enough to not believe a word I’m telling you.”

Belle gaped at him, quickly averting her gaze to the waiter who mercifully arrived at the table with a basket of fresh bread and olive oil. Thanking him profusely, Belle tried to change the subject, “I’ve never actually eaten here, you know.”

“Tell me, Ms. French,” Gold continued, leaning back in his chair as if it was a throne. “Do you always deflect attention like this?”

Remembering their brief car ride in the rain, Belle shook her head at him. “Ah, touché,” she replied. “But two can play this game, Mr. Gold.”

“Careful,” he replied, raising his glass to his lips. “I’ve read most of the articles about me online too, Ms. French. You can’t believe everything they publish.”

Belle felt a brief stab of embarrassment, she had Googled him. Countless times. She even had a Google alert on his name and company just in case. 

“Ok, I do know you have a son named Neal. He owns Baelfire Whiskey Distillery in Tampa. And you’re divorced,” she added hastily. “But I also know you are a very private man who likes to appear dismissive and cold when in fact you are kind. Almost to a fault.”

A mirthless laugh from him raised the fire in her and Belle leaned forward. “Golden Rum and its subsidiaries donate about a quarter of their profits to charities yearly. You saved a complete stranger from a drunken bore, had her car delivered to her home without any incentive. You also were chivalrous enough to provide me a ride home after I followed you out the coffee door and sent a hand written thank you note when you received my muffin basket.”

“Which I will remind you was unnecessary,” he quipped. “I still have muffins laying about the pantry.”

“You never called,” Belle said quietly, twisting her fingers in her napkin. It was the crux of her reluctance. The ignored request to see him again had stung her continuously the past few long weeks. 

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to,” came the equally quiet reply. 

Glancing up with a scoff, Belle found her companion gazing at her in some confusion. “Well, of course I wanted you to call,” she said lamely. “I wouldn’t have put my number on the thank you card if I didn’t.”

“I thought perhaps,” but he silenced himself as the appetizer plate of olives and cheese arrived. He motioned for her to dig in and she smiled sheepishly. 

“Not an olive person,” she confessed as she cut a slice of cheese from the closest wedge. 

“More for me,” he replied teasingly, slipping two of the plate and onto his. 

“My mom used to say that the best couples were when one of them liked olives and the other didn’t, “ Belle found herself saying, stuffing the cheese in her mouth before any further words could escape. 

“Interesting.” His Scottish brogue trilled the word and caused Belle to smile despite herself. “Jefferson will be insufferable,” he continued. “He’s been nagging me to go back to that infernal coffee shop every time it rains.”

Belle laughed, nodding as she pictured Jefferson happily chatting away as he drove up and down the boulevard. “Sorry about that,” she said, though she was far from it. Perhaps Jefferson deserved some baked goods as well. “I haven’t been in a while.”

“Oh,” came the terse reply and Belle felt the chill emanating from across the table. With a frown, she leaned over to snag his coat jacket, tugging at it until he looked up at her.

“Exam season,” she explained, keeping his eye. “Very busy for college libraries.”

“Oh,” he repeated but this time it was lighter. “I see.”

“Now that I explained it to you,” Belle teased, settling back in her seat. “You were about to disappear on me again.”

“You do have the strangest way about you,” he said carefully. “You were practically too embarrassed to speak in the presence of your friend and mere minutes later, you have little to no regard to my personal space.”

Belle nodded, nibbling at a blue cheese rind she had picked up. “Ruby sucks all the energy out of a room sometimes,” she shared. “Plus, I thought you weren’t interested.”

She nearly missed the brief rise and fall of his eyebrows. “Well,” he coughed, reaching for the wine glass, which was dangerously low. “I’m a hard man to love.”

“Who said anything about love?” Belle teased, watching as his figure tensed before he caught her eyes and realized she was kidding. The growing familiar mischievous light in his eyes twinkled back at her right as the waiter and Figaro reappeared with their entrees.

After the usual traditions of adding cheese, requesting the pepper, Belle found herself alone once more with stoic CEO millionaire, more interested in his chicken plate than her.

Twirling her fork in her richly fragrant spaghetti, Belle focused on her own plate. It wasn’t until she had spun her fork counter clockwise four times that she felt the gentle nudge under the table. Startled up from her morose stare, she found Gold still focusing on his plate, cutting squares and lifting his fork to his mouth in the European style. 

Still, under the table, his left foot had found hers and was nestled happily beside it. His trouser rubbed pleasantly against her bare calf, the rich material decadent in the dimness. She pressed back against him, careful to check to make sure his bad leg wasn’t the one in question. 

As the meal progressed, they discussed her summer break plans. The college library stayed open for summer school but she had a few weeks off in between sessions. Gold mentioned he had a trip planned down south to see his son and his grandson, as well as a trip to Boston in the fall.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Boston,” Belle sighed, dipping her spoon back into the crème Brule. “Mostly for the history.”

“You’ve never been?” Gold asked over the rim of his coffee. It was nearly three o’clock and Gepetto’s had closed for lunch and was in the midst of preparing for its dinner crowd. No one had bothered to tell them to leave though. 

Belle shook her head. “I ‘ve always wanted to travel,” she told him, tapping her spoon against the bottom of her dish. “But one thing lead to another, first my mother passed and then my father’s business went under-“

“So, you’ve never been outside of Storybrooke?” He asked in amazement. She shook her head and he widened his eyes. “We’ll have to fix that,” he murmured and Belle felt a giddiness she tried to hide. 

“Are you asking me to see the world?” She asked neutrally. He pondered it for a moment before he nodded. 

“Perhaps I am, Ms. French,” he responded.

“Belle,” she corrected, reaching out to take his hand in hers. He squeezed faintly over the linen before his fingertips started to circle lazy circles on the back of her hand. 

“Belle,” he confirmed. 

It was a strange sort of truce there in the dark romantic safe haven of Gepetto’s. She knew as well as he the moment they left into the sun, the real world with all of its issues and responsibilities would be waiting for them. 

So, it was easier for him to order another coffee and Belle didn’t say anything when Gepetto himself came out of the kitchen with another Crème Brule, shouting happily in Italian as he seized her for kisses on her cheek. 

Gold was looking at her from over the table, a guarded and wondering disbelief in his eyes that made her feel warm in ways she hadn’t in a very long time. 

The real world could wait.

After all, they hadn’t gotten the check yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm so excited to finally get to post this! 
> 
> This was requested in my 100 followers prompt-a-thon over on Tumblr and I've been putting it off because I wanted it to be perfect but Ruby barged in and turned another prompt into this with her usual take no prisoners, so while you all didn't get as much Jefferson, you got a bit of Ruby and I hope you enjoy her as much as you enjoyed him.
> 
> Thank you all for reading- I had quite fun turning my little one shot strangers passing in the night ficlet into this trilogy. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading- this is currently just a one shot that I wrote a while ago but I may revisit it if I ever get back to Storybrooke! (and finish the two other WIP I have going)


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